


The Smell Of Honey

by lilaliacs



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Coffeeshop AU, M/M, also its 80 percent OCs rip, i blame this on the exyspacegays and on taylor especially for encouraging me, jerejean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-05-29 05:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6361060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilaliacs/pseuds/lilaliacs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martha's was a cozy little coffee shop that always smelled of honey, lilacs and something that couldn't be described as anything less than home.<br/>And that's what it was to Jeremy, who had spent his childhood sat on a stool at the tiny bar, coloring in the patterns of the menus, or watching his mother creating the most beautiful cakes and pastries that he had ever seen.</p><p>The place was filled with good memories and everyone who came in could sense the atmosphere of peace that seemed to fill the soft light falling in through lacy curtains at any time of day. In fact, multiple patrons had stated that they came in for exactly this, for a break from their everyday stress, to just grab a coffee and absorb whatever magic the smell of Martha's cakes emitted and it was something Jeremy's mother was very proud of.<br/>It was also something Jeremy was very proud of, and the reason for him to put his all in making the customers' time there worthwhile.<br/>He never thought that one day, doing that would be a challenge.<br/>(AU in which everything is the same only that Jeremy isnt captain of the trojans but works in his mom's coffeeshop instead)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Every chapter will have OC credits at the end (bc this fic has so many that I need this fml)
> 
> Inspired by a conversation over at exyspacegays.tumblr.com about Jean's coffee preferences and barista!jeremy, I hate everyone on that blog (including me)
> 
> (jk i love you guys come cuddle)

_Martha's_ was a cozy little coffee shop that always smelled of honey, lilacs and something that couldn't be described as anything less than home.  
And that's what it was to Jeremy, who had spent his childhood sat on a stool at the tiny bar, coloring in the patterns of the menus, or watching his mother creating the most beautiful cakes and pastries that he had ever seen.  
When his older sister Maya had moved to the city and gave her place behind the counter to Jeremy, she had jokingly accused their mother of using Jeremy for marketing reasons, after she had watched him charming yet another elderly lady into buying the take-out cake special to bring home to her husband. But his success in selling cupcakes wasn't why he had agreed to help his mother out when she asked him to.  
The place was filled with good memories and everyone who came in could sense the atmosphere of peace that seemed to fill the soft light falling in through lacy curtains at any time of day. In fact, multiple patrons had stated that they came in for exactly this, for a break from their everyday stress, to just grab a coffee and absorb whatever magic the smell of Martha's cakes emitted and it was something Jeremy's mother was very proud of.  
It was also something Jeremy was very proud of, and the reason for him to put his all in making the customers' time there worthwhile.  
He never thought that one day, doing that would be a challenge.

„Jeremy, you need to take on the front today.“

Millie threw her jacket onto a chair where several others were already piled to a colorful mess and looked up at her older brother expectantly.

„But I'm-“ . Jeremy started but got interrupted.  
„Mom told you to help out in the kitchen, I know. But I'll have you know, I had a very hard day and I cannot be trusted with selling things to people today. Or people in general. I'll just go punch the cookie dough and no one will get hurt.“

„Besides the cookie dough.“ A voice chirped in behind them.

„The cookie dough is not a living thing Louis. You're also in front today right?“ Millie didn't give their friend and co-worker time to answer. „See, Jer? We wouldn't have sold anything anyway, with that social catastrophe and me behind the counter. You just spread your beautiful aura and run damage control on whatever Louis will be doing.“  
She blew the two boys a kiss and disappeared into the kitchen, undoubtedly to pick a one-sided fight with one of the batches of dough that Martha left in their care that morning.

Jeremy shot Louis an apologetic smile for Millie's remarks while walking up behind the counter where a small group of middle-aged women were waiting to order.

Secretly (or not so secretly), Jeremy was glad that Millie had wanted to swap. He preferred talking to the customers to being locked up in the tiny kitchen any day, and his sister was right: Louis was a disaster. He was a good guy but he couldn't do small talk if his life depended on it and always ended up in awkward if not worrisome situations. Jeremy had stopped counting how much of those he had to fix up until now, with a smile and a free box of cookies, but he couldn't say he regretted helping his friend to the job. It surely never had been boring for long since Louis worked with them.

They had a silent agreement that Louis would take on the older part of the customers, grannies who were too goodhearted to take any of his comments wrong and elderly men who just wanted a coffee and to read their papers in silence. Usually that worked out pretty well and they had the customers divided up pretty evenly between the two of them.  
On that specific day though, it was raining buckets outside and not many people were going out, not speaking of going out and visiting the tiny coffee shop.

After about an hour of Jeremy serving the few younger patrons coming in, Louis perked up: „Dude, I think we should quit the thing for today. Let's just say we make half/half. You served that guy and the next person coming in is mine.“

Jeremy understood that Louis meant well and wanted to help out as much as he could. But he also knew about the several unpleasant encounters that were to happen with that split-up.  
Still, he nodded. He wasn't one to turn down the opportunity to break old habits.

So that's what they did and the day went on rather uneventful. Until...it didn't.

Jeremy was just done serving one of the older men Louis usually took on, jabbing down the third cup of black coffee on the guy's receipt, when the soft sound of a doorbell announced the arrival of a new customer.

The man had the hood of his black sweater pulled down so far that Jeremy couldn't make out his eyes, but he shook it off as soon as the door closed behind him and shut out the thick raindrops drumming against it.

He raked a hand through messy dark curls as he seemed to measure up the room. When his grey-blue stare fell on Jeremy, Jeremy couldn't shake the feeling of watching a tense animal- it was like the guy expected someone to lash out at him at any second.  
This was something Jeremy wasn't used to. The coffee shop had always resembled to something like a safe haven in his mind, a place where nothing bad ever happened, where people usually had a smile on their face and it smelled of lilacs and honey, and when he started working there he had always thrived to keep this image up for every person entering.

The near-haunted look in the man's eyes as he slowly made his way up to the counter took Jeremy a little off-guard, so that he nearly failed to react when he realized Louis was getting ready to take up the new customer's order, which- Jeremy just knew it was a terrible idea.

„Don't worry buddy, I'll take care of the counter for a bit. You go check in with Millie in the back, she should leave some of mom's batches alive.“ , he smiled at his confused friend until Louis shrugged and obliged, disappearing into the kitchen just as Jeremy turned around to greet the new arrival and was met with an icy stare.

„What can I get you?“, he asked, with the same bright smile he gave every customer... But something felt different with this one.

Jeremy was good with people. He knew what to say around them, what to do to not make them uncomfortable. But something about the tense posture of the guy's shoulders and the way his fingers were thoughtlessly tracing patterns onto the sleeve of his hoodie in contrast to that made that part of Jeremy's brain short circuit.  
So when the guy ordered a chai latte in a quiet and raspy voice, Jeremy just replied with the very first thing that came to his mind:

„Oh, you're french?“

The man seemed to be taken off guard by the question, looking at Jeremy in surprise and nodding once.  
Jeremy found himself in a nothing short from Louis-like situation, when he contemplated if it would be less awkward to just say nothing at all now that he initiated (and failed at) conversation, or to keep trying. He decided for the latter as he prepared the drink.

„I love the language, you know? I suck at it though, never got the hang of all those past tenses in school. My sister is really good at it ! She's reading books in french. Gotta say I'm a little jealous.“

With a sharpie in hand he stopped his babbling to look at the man again. „What's your name?“

He felt guilty when he saw that the kind of shocked expression still hadn't fallen from the other's face. Jeremy felt like he had betrayed his own codex in making a customer uncomfortable and started mentally scolding himself, so that he nearly didn't catch the quiet answer.

„Jean. What's yours?“

Now that Jeremy hadn't expected. He had prepared himself for a one worded answer, or complete silence, but definitely not, well- the beginning of an actual conversation.

It took him a second to regain control of his mouth, before he answered.

„I-I'm Jeremy!“, he- stuttered. He could slap himself. Covering up his inner cringe he smiled and added: „Are you new here? I don't think I've seen you around until now.I mean, I don't know everyone who lives here of course but I guess I've seen a lo-“

„Yeah.“ Jean interrupted his rambling. „I...I moved here from West Virginia.“

Jeremy hadn't quite given up on his ability to have a normal conversation yet.

„Oh, so they speak french in West Virginia?“, he-...no, it wasn't worth calling it a joke. That had been a disaster. Jeremy kept up his smile, even though he wasn't sure if it didn't resemble a quiet plea for help at that point.

To his surprise Jean didn't turn around and left the shop at once (which Jeremy totally would’ve accepted as a suitable reaction), but instead shook his head, with a quirk of his mouth, that maybe, in some way, resembled a smile.

„They don't. I lived in Marseille until I was 11.“

His first thought was that, maybe, beneath all that black clothing and the bandaid on his left cheek, Jean was an angel, sent to redeem Jeremy's awkwardness. His second thought was the sudden realization that his mouth couldn't be trusted to not say weird thoughts like that out loud and a reminder to himself to get his shit together.

„I would love to visit Marseille one day! What made you come to the US though?“

„My...parents made that decision actually.“

Jeremy could tell that it was a complicated subject,so he tried for the safest way around it and smiled innocently.

„Of course. An 11 year old wouldn't move across the ocean on his own, silly me.“  
In no state of mental short circuit could Jeremy mistake the tension in Jeans lips that followed as a smile, but after a short „Yeah.“ Jean surprised him again, by giving this nightmare of a conversation another chance.

„So you're from California?“

Jeremy gladly took him up on the offer and nodded eagerly.

„We live just a few blocks down the road actually.“

„We?“

„Me and my family.“ , he pointed behind him. „My sister Millie for example, she's in the back. And uh, my mom“, now he motioned to the door displaying the logo that Jeremy’s younger brother Joel had designed some time ago. „My mom is Martha.“

„Oh, so a family business?“ Jean asked. When Jeremy nodded again, he resumed while his eyes wandered to something behind Jeremy. „Is he related to you too?“

Turning around ,Jeremy saw Louis perched up in the kitchen door, looking kind of awestruck.  
„You alright Lou? Millie still alive?“ Jeremy quirked an eyebrow at the weird look on his friend’s face, but Louis didn't even react to his questions. Instead he made his way towards the two of them and stopped next to Jeremy, looking directly at Jean now.

„You're Jean Moreau.“

If it wasn't for Jean tensing up again Jeremy probably wouldn't even have noticed that the other man had relaxed during their conversation. Realizing it now though it was all he could do to not shove Louis' face into the cupcake display he was standing in front of.  
He didn't know why, but obviously the mention of his full name, however Louis had known that, had made Jean extremely uncomfortable again.  
That was the question, though. How exactly could Louis „I've never left California“ Rouge know this random customer’s full name?

Jeremy was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't hear Louis' blabbering at first, now he zoned in again.

„...just this morning! I bet the press is dying to get a statement from you. They're probably camping in front of Evermore right now, trying to get one from Riko or your coach. Ex-...ex-coach? And you're here! I mean you were in radio silence for _months_ now, and, like, people already started to believe that Laila's statement today was just a bluff, but...Obviously it wasn't! Man I'm excited! It's exciting right? Aren't you excited?"

Those names stirred some sort of recognition in Jeremy. Riko, Evermore, Laila.  
Louis had never managed to get him into Exy, but that didn't mean that he had ever shut up about it. Jeremy had always thought it was funny how his friend ,who sometimes couldn't even walk a straight line or remember his own phone number ,could keep up with stats and names in such a complicated sport. Usually he zoned out after the first few minutes of Louis' ranting about recent games and news, but some facts still creeped their way into Jeremy's memory sometimes.  
He knew for example that Louis' favorite team was that of a local University, The USC Trojans, and that he worshipped their captain ,Laila Dermott. He also knew that Louis lost some money betting on them last year, when they lost against the apparently best team in their league, the Edgar Allen Ravens, and that that was the reason why his friend despised the West Virginian team.

West Virginia...

Slowly the pieces fell into picture. Jeremy recalled fragments of a rant from not even two hours ago.

Louis hadn't even tried to hide his gloating when talking about one of the Ravens' players causing some drama that would probably cost the team a good part of their reputation and stance. The guy had apparently fled Edgar Allen's holy halls...- The guy was apparently standing in front of them right at this moment.

Louis gestured towards Jean's face, where the band-aid covered a good part of his cheekbone.  
„Why'd you cover it up?“

Jean, who hadn't said a word ever since Louis joined the conversation blinked a few times and then said in a cold voice: „So I don't get recognized as easily.“

„Oh!...Oh.“ Louis face fell at once. Jeremy wasn't entirely sure what had happened but he was glad that Louis had realized that he had crossed a line minutes ago. Not only because it meant that the one-sided conversation stopped, but also because Jeremy would've had to seriously worry about his friend's well-being, if he wouldn't have recognized the sharp edges Jeans words painted on his face as a warning to stop. 

The beep of the coffee machine interrupted the awkward silence that followed, indicating that Jean's beverage was done. Louis took that as his cue to disappear back into the kitchen, claiming that he heard Millie calling him. Jeremy was certain that she hadn't but he definitely wouldn't keep Louis from leaving. Instead he turned to finish up Jean's order.  
He felt the need to try and save the situation, even though the rational part of his brain screamed at him that it was beyond saving.  
He still didn't know what exactly it was but something about the shadow in Jean's eyes made him want to help. He also didn't know how he wanted to help, or with what for that matter, he only knew that the darting looks the other man sent through the shop weren't the ones he had sent Jeremy when he had talked about Millie's books, and that he very much preferred the latter.

„I don't really know what's up, but I'm really sorry for him.“ , he said. „You may have realized that but he doesn't have any kind of filter between his brain and his mouth.“

„I realized, yeah.“ Jean replied, but it was lacking the sharp tone he used to talk to Louis.  
Encouraged by that, Jeremy returned to his place on the register and smiled at Jean carefully.

„Are you okay though?“

The surprise in Jean's eyes at Jeremy's concern nearly broke his heart. As he handed the cup over he heard a mumbled: „I- I'm fine.“

It was an obvious lie, so obvious that Jeremy knew it wouldn't do anything to push the subject. But the small part of him that was growing determined to help didn't let him drop it completely.

He waited for the register to print the receipt, before he ripped it off and quickly jabbed down his number on it. Handing it to Jean he explained: „Well, if you ever should be not fine anymore...I was told I'm a pretty good listener.“ He smiled again, a smile a few hues to warm to be his usual customer-smile and added: „Have a nice day, Jean.“  
He left the counter (and Jean, looking after him as if he hadn't fully processed what had happened yet) and went to the kitchen. Before he entered the small room he hadn't fully decided if he was here to punch Louis in the face or simply to flee the awkwardness, but when he arrived he settled for neither. Instead he sent Louis out to take on the front in his stead and joined Millie, who was still kneading dough.  
Doing that, he realized that his fingers were shaking. Millie noticed too.

„You good?“ she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

„I feel like a middle-schooler.“ Jeremy sighed.

„Hey, watch it. I'm a middle-schooler. What happened?“

“I think I just lived through the opening sequence of one of those horrible movies you always want to watch.” 

As a part of this family, Jeremy knew how sensitive the Knox’s were about their personal movie choices, so he had to duck an empty carton that was thrown his way.  
While avoiding another one ,his eyes fell on his phone lying on the counter. 

He couldn’t help but wonder if, and when Jean would take him up on his offer. A voice in the back of his head mocked those thoughts, but it was dulled by the glint of something warm in Jeans eyes, that Jeremy remembered in detail from their conversation.  
That image would probably be burned into his memory for eternity, and he wouldn’t mind it.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a chapter dedcated to fort knox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i fucked with the canon timeline a bit in this fic, jean left SC right after USC's last championship match!! pls forgive me this fic is already a mess  
> (trigger warning for suicide mention)

Living in a house with 7 people meant a lot of things. On one hand it meant loud mornings, crowded hallways and missing pieces of clothing (as well as accusation about the whereabouts of said clothing). On the other hand it meant trust, comfort and a place to fit in whenever it was necessary.  
On this particular Saturday morning it meant breakfast duty for Jeremy, together with his younger brother Jacob.  
Jacob was usually part of a pair, his twin Joel attached to his hip, the two of them only separated by force of nature- or by the fact that it took the noise of a heavy metal concert to wake Joel up before 10 am. Their preferences in when to get up in the morning wasn’t the only thing distinguishing the twins from one another.  
While both of them had a good few inches on Jeremy (his older age had deceived him and he cursed nature with every time the twins grew even taller), Jacob stood about one shorter than Joel and tried to even it out by gelling his hair up where Joel wore it longer and down.  
They both needed glasses, but Jacob preferred contacts. Some people joked about how that made Joel “the smart one” and were usually surprised when they were told that this was only half of the truth. Infact both of them had developed bright minds over the years, with scholarships for an art school safe once they graduated highschool.  
Another difference was their choice in profession: Joel hadn’t spend a day free of paint stains ever since he was 3 years old and always had a pencil or paintbrush stuck behind his ear. Jacob’s passion was music. Sometimes he spent days scribbling notes and chords on every available surface, other times he hummed and tapped beats out for worryingly long periods of time - it was just Jeremy’s luck that today was one of that days.  
“Jake that’s a butter knife nor a drum-stick.”

“You’re a butter knife.” Jacob shot back and stuck his tongue out at him. 

Jeremy was just about to remark how disappointed he was in his brother’s creativity after this statement, when he was interrupted by another voice. 

“I’m gone for 5 minutes and I come back to an insult like this. Jacob I am appalled.”

Martha Knox was a warm, sunny woman who called all of her children’s friends “honey” and “sweetie” and had a special talent for constantly having flour or food color-stains somewhere, at any given time of day. When she laughed the skin around her eyes wrinkled in a way that made it seem as if her face was made for smiling. Those wrinkles were what told her children whether she was being serious with accusations like the latter, or not - otherwise hard to decipher, considering Martha’s weird sense of humor. 

“If you go out and try again in another 5 minutes I can come up with something better.” Jacob grinned, to which their mother only shook her head and chuckled.  
“I doubt it. Go wake up the others, would you?”

As Jacob went upstairs and Martha finished setting the table herself, Jeremy found himself with nothing else to do than checking his phone. It’s been a little over a week since the weird encounter at the Café and he still didn’t get a text from Jean.  
Of course he denied every single one of Millie’s suggestions as to why he was so bummed about that. He was not a kid anymore, he didn’t do silly crushes or obsession anymore, especially not after only one fairly awkward encounter in a coffeeshop. All he did was care.  
Really, he wasn’t even bummed, he wasn’t upset. He was just worried. Jeremy knew when people were not okay, and Jean’s whole demeanor last week had screamed “not okay”.

Jeremy wanted to help. While that was all he wanted to think about, a small voice in his head sneaked everything in that Jeremy actually wanted to forget: 

What if you’re making up things? What if he was okay?  
What if you made a fool out of yourself?  
What if he forgot about you already?  
What if he thought you were creepy?  
Why would he text you after that weird conversation?

When his phone buzzed he nearly let it fall. It wasn’t Jean- of course not. It was Louis, as always double-texting. Triple. Jeremy’s phone didn’t stop buzzing for about a minute. 

“Someone’s excited.”, Martha remarked with a look at the blinking notifications on the screen. 

With a look at the clock Jeremy’s suspicion grew. It was way too early for Louis to be this excited. But if something bad had happened he would’ve called or come over. If he could still use emojis he probably wasn’t bleeding anywhere vital. 

**JER OMG**

**!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
DAD GOT TICKETS?????!!!!**

**FOR USC!!!!!!!**

**UR COMING WITH RIGHT**

**YES U R**

**RIGHT??????**

**It’s sat u dont have a life so u have time**

**Ur coming**

 

It took a moment until Jeremy understood what his friend tried to convey. Apparently they were going to see a game at USC next weekend- Jeremy presumed it was Exy by the number of exclamation marks in his inbox. Three tiny bouncing dots next to Louis name at the top of the screen told him that there soon would be more.  
He put his phone away by the time he had three more messages, all more or less about the same thing ("I'LL BE IN THE SAME ROOM AS LAILA JER"), just in time for the breakfast table filling with the rest of his family. 

Jeremy's father, Justin, tried snatching a strawberry, but Millie stole it before he could. At the same time Jacob and Joel were racing each other for the seat farthest away from their baby sister Maggie, while she was already beginning to happily spread breadcrumbs all over the parts of the table she could reach. It was an unspoken rule that, whoever sat next to her would have to clean the mess up.

Looking at his family like this Jeremy never could keep a strange sort of nostalgia from welling up inside him. It's been like this for as long as he could remember, the mornings just as busy when it had only been him and his older sister Maya. He couldn't imagine his life any different and he wouldn't want to miss the feeling these mornings gave him- peaceful and quiet in a way that was anything but those things. So the nostalgia wasn't really him feeling a desire for the past, but the comforting lack of this tug in his stomach, replaced by a sense of belonging and wholesomeness. 

The feeling wasn't dulled by the fact that Millie threw a grape at his head, even though the thoughts about it were.  
"What the hell?", he demanded, while picking the grape up from where it had bounced on the table in front of him.  
With a grin, she popped another green projectile into her own mouth. "I heard you have plans for the weekend."

Of course Louis had messaged her too. Whenever his best friend was excited, he became a ticking bomb. When he exploded nobody was safe from the wave of emotions (and emoticons) coming their way and Jeremy and his family were usually within the first few victims. Assuming that Millie knew about all the important details of Louis' plans he nodded and asked: "You coming with?" 

Millie made a non-committal hand gesture.  
“Actually, Ava and I wanted to meet up in the mall.” 

Her tone told Jeremy that there was more to the statement. He didn’t expect it to be a “but” because there were no “buts” with Ava. Ever since Millie had started Middleschool there hadn’t been. Nobody really minded, Millie’s friend was nothing short of an angel and easy to he around, but it had earned Millie a lot of good-natured jabs by her older siblings ever since.  
Still, a “but” was what Millie went on with. 

“But Louis said that they had spare tickets anyway and I think Ava once said that she really liked the USC captain, so…” She trailed off but Jeremy was already caught on one part of her statement. 

“Oh no, I’ll have to spend a night with two people who are obsessed with Laila Dermott? Now I’m not sure if I still want to go.” 

Millie stuck her tongue out at him, but it was their father who answered. 

“Knowing Louis you won’t have a choice, buddy.” He had successfully snatched a strawberry and munched away on it while smiling at Jeremy.  
“I don’t think he’ll ever talk to you again if you don’t tag along.” 

Jeremy was torn between saying that Justin was wrong or that reminding him that he knew that. On one hand he was fairly sure his best friend wouldn’t ditch him over a thing like this, but on the other he also knew how important Exy was to Louis and how much of a drama queen he was. 

“Isn’t the championship over already?” , Joel perked up. Nobody besides Justin and Millie really had been able to catch up with the Exy championships of the last few years.  
Both of them now shook their heads frantically.  
“The finale is tonight actually, PSU against Edgar Allen” ,Millie grinned. “This is going to be the weirdest game ever.”

“Speaking of” ,Justin pointed his fork at his daughter. “That Raven show up again? Haven’t heard anything about him in a while.”

“Moreau? Nope, still MIA. The last thing was Laila’s press statement but he himself has been missing for about a month or two now.”

Now they had Jeremy’s undivided attention. “What do you mean he’s been missing?”

“Louis hasn’t told you about it yet? Riko Moriyama’s father died a month back - he’s Edgar Allen’s captain. The same night their backliner Jean Moreau disappeared from the public eye and there was nothing about him ever since last week, when Laila Dermott - you know who that is right? Good. - she told the press that Moreau would play for USC from now on. Pretty unexpected to be honest, more so because there were rumours that he had died.” , Millie shrugged, then turned to look at Justin again and began discussing the upcoming game. 

Only half of Jeremy was aware of Millie chuckling at their father for believing in the Foxes or the discussion that it caused between the two. He didn’t quite register them finally betting on the outcome of the game, even though Millie thought it ridiculous. His thoughts were back in the shop, on Monday morning, Louis’ bewildered voice resounding in his head: _“You’re Jean Moreau.”_

He quickly texted his best friend a confirmation for the USC game in a week, even though he couldn’t really say what he hoped would happen himself. 

_

Jeremy had only agreed to stay up with Millie and Justin for the game that night because he didn't want to be completely clueless when talking to Louis the next day. Now there was definitely too much happening at once.   
The Foxes had won the game, surprisingly, and as far as Jeremy could judge they had earned that win. He had been quite happy for them actually, always rooting for the underdog as he was, and would've continued to be, if it weren't for three players causing some chaos after the final buzzer rang. The screen had shown only most of the foxes celebrating their victory, but another one had caught the Ravens' captain attempting to bring his racquet down on the Foxes' striker's head. Jeremy had only held an Exy racquet twice in his life but he remembered that they were heavy and definitely wouldn't only cause light damage on someones skull. (Somewhere in his brain a memory from one of Louis rants itched, something about an actual murder being committed with an Exy racquet last October. It had most definitely included words like "only defending" , "asshole deserved it" and "Foxes". Either that or Jeremy had imagined the whole thing, as unlikely as it sounded when he tried to recall it.) Luckily the Foxes' goalkeeper had interfered by smashing his own racquet down on Moriyama's arm. Jeremy didn't even feel guilty for the gloat welling up in his gut. Apparently that hadn't been enough drama in the world of Exy in one night, because about two hours later, when Jeremy and his father were still sitting in the living room playing a game of cards, news broadcasted the "greatest tragedy for Exy ever since Kayleigh Day's death". (Jeremy didn't know who Kayleigh Day had been, but judging from Justin's disbelieving scoff the comparison was more than wrong.) Riko Moriyama had comitted suicide. Edgar Allen's coach, Riko's uncle, had resigned, official reasons being the recent personal losses. Anchormen were already discussing the truth behind those statements as well as Riko's motivation for his suicicde. Jeremy thought that was pretty disgusting considering they were talking about freaking death. Someone had died and no matter if he had been a bad person or not, Jeremy didn't think it was those people's place to discuss the matter.   
The fact that he couldn't really muster any more anger for them than that, or more, that he didn't know _why_ he felt anything but bad about Riko Moriyama's death made him feel sick. It was similar to the bitter kind of joy that perked up when Minyard had brought his stick down on Riko's arm earlier that night, and it drove him crazy. He didn't even know the guy, not personally, he wasn't allowed to dislike him so much. Still, thinking about some things Louis had told him about the late "King of Exy" and remembering how Millie told him about the rumours that Riko had been playing a crucial part in Jean Moreau disappearing and then Jean showing up in the shop _clearly not okay_ ...  
He should feel bad, a little upset, distressed. He hated the little voice in the back of his head whispering that maybe, possibly, Riko had deserved it. 

He went to his room with a queasy feeling of guilt in his stomach. Just when he was about to crash for the night, his phone hummed. Assuming it was Louis who also just heard the news and wanted to spam Jeremy with all the details he didn't want to know, Jeremy took his phone in hand to put it on silent. He was too tired to deal with that righ now. 

**is tjid rrally yoir nimbe r?**

That was...not Louis. Jeremy had never seen the number on top of his screen before and actually, he was too tired to find out. But he also was too curious not to do anything about it. This person seemed to be trying very hard with the typing, he should at least humour them once. It was only polite, right?

**sorry, i kinda dont have ur number saved!! its jeremy, who am i talking 2?**

The last time an unknown number had texted him it had turned out that Louis had left Jeremy's number on random walls in public bathrooms the night before. It had been a fun weekend of unwanted dick-pics and offers and requests that had sounded suspiciously much like drugs or prostitution. Maybe this was a late addition to those incidents. His phone hummed again.

**i thought yoi wwer makin fun off me**   
**its jean**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you have questions, ideas, criticism comments are very much appreciated! or shoot me an ask on tumblr (plantparrish) <33


	3. Chapter 3

“He’s dead, you know?”

Jeremy had received a text message a few hours earlier by his best friend saying that he didn’t have a life. Back when Louis started using that phrase Jeremy used to get confused. He was alive, he lived so, of course, he had a life. Now, years later, he knew what Louis meant and he couldn’t really deny the accuracy behind it.   
It wasn’t that he had problems with people. He loved people, he loved observing them, he loved smiling at them, he loved more than anything to get a smile back. All in all, Jeremy should have been a very social person, talkative, easy-going. Should have been.   
In reality he got nervous. In reality he needed a counter in front of him to start up an easy conversation. In reality he didn’t have a lot of friends because he couldn’t talk to people.   
The one thing that his anxiety had no impact on was his instinct to help. (That was what he knew, deep inside. He didn’t say it out loud because he knew his family, Louis, they would just start worrying and tell him that he was okay, would be okay. He knew that. Should know that.)  
And so it came that he now was on the phone with a guy he met only once, a guy who he barely understood because not only did Jean have a confusingly smooth accent, he also was very, very intoxicated.   
Jeremy had originally called Jean because it was getting harder and harder to decipher his texts, even though Jean was clearly trying his best.   
He had been greeted with a slow and slurred “You called.” Then there had been silence for a good four minutes until-

“He’s dead, he’s gone, he- did you see that? It’s all over the news. He-Dead. He’s dead.”

Riko. The twisted feeling in Jeremy’s stomach was back, because Jean was not okay and Riko had something to do with it. And immediately he felt bad for it again because maybe Jean just wasn’t okay because he was grieving for a former team mate, grieving for friend, Jeremy wouldn’t know, he didn’t know Riko, he didn’t know Jean-

He nearly missed Jean’s next attempt at coherent speech.

“Neil...he said we’re save, he- but-...and now R- now he’s dead, but…

Neil...Josten? What did he have to do with all of this? Thinking back, the last thing Jeremy had seen Riko do was attempting to murder Josten, so honestly, he had no idea why Neil would tell Jean that anybody was save. Jeremy had no idea why Neil would be reassuring Jean in any way, seeing as they played on rivaling teams. Suddenly he wished he would’ve paid attention to Louis’ rants more often, so much more would make sense now. 

“Merde.” it hissed on the other end of the line. Next was something way too close to a choked sob for Jeremy’s liking. “Merde, merde, merde.”

“Jean. Try to ca- try to breathe okay?” Two thoughts materialized in his head at once, the first being that this was the first and only thing he had said until now, the second a reminder of how much he hated it when someone told him to calm down or “just breathe” whenever he was panicking. Because- he couldn’t. That was the whole problem, he couldn’t, telling him to do so didn’t help, it just’t wasn’t possible-

“I can’t.” Jean whispered. _Of course not_ , Jeremy thought, _I know that, it’s okay, I understand._ He couldn’t say it. He felt pathetic but he reminded himself that it wasn’t his place to feel like that right now, because he was trying to help. This wasn’t a competition of who is more miserable and even if it were, he doubted he’d win. 

What he did say was: “Where are you right now? Is someone with you?”

_Of course there isn’t why would he have called you?_

Why did Jean call him?

“I...I’m at Coach Rhemann’s house right now, he’s...They’re at practice I think. Nobody’s here.”

He shouldn’t be alone. Nobody should be alone like this.

_I barely know him._

“Can you call anyone? A team mate, a friend, a doctor?”

“No...No I- they’re all- I called you.”

He didn’t know how often he had heard the words “Jeremy, you’re too good for this world.” and laughed them off. Once Louis had said “You know that thing that was on TV the other day? The girl that got kidnapped because there was this old dude who asked her to help with his car a bit down the road? That’s how you’ll die one day.” Of course, Louis had been joking mostly. But right now, as he was shrugging on his jacket while simultaneously trying to get an address from a stranger that he talked to twice- it didn’t seem so far off anymore. 

__

Cole Rhemann lived in a two storey house that seemed way too big to have only one name on it's postbox. Jeremy wondered briefly if the USC coach often let ragtag members of his team stay with him, or if he volunteered his house for victory parties.   
His thoughts were interrupted by a crash inside and the door being swung open a few seconds later. the image it revealed was- destroyed. Not only the shattered vase on the bottom of the staircase inside played into that, but also the man standing in front of him. jean's face had seemed pale and worn out last week, now he could've easily played an extra on The Walking Dead and nobody would've questioned it. There even was blood running down his cheek from a cut that Jeremy suspected came from the collision with the vase.   
"You actually- you're here." Jean's eyes fixed Jeremy's and made it clear instantly that this conversation would be nothing like their first conversation- main differences being that it hadn't been the middle of the night then and Jean had been neither drunk nor on the tail ends of a panic attack. Other than that Jeremy had no other precedents, of course, but he tried not to think about it.   
It was of course perfectly normal to drive to the other side of town to help out a complete stranger. 

"I said I would come if you wanted me to. Are you-" Jeremy bit his tongue. "Can I come in?"

Jean stared at him for another moment, his expression unreadable, then stepped away from the door and left it open behind him. 

Careful not to step on the shards, Jeremy followed him into what seemed to be a living room- the lights were down in the whole house and Jean didn't linger long enough for Jeremy to make sure. Instead, he lead the way out onto a terrace. The bit of light seeping in from the street was reflected on water in a small pool. Jean sat down there, next to a pile of clothes and a mostly empty bottle of booze. Jeremy desperately hoped that it hadn't been full to begin with. (Even though that would explain a lot.)  
He ground to a halt a few steps behind, not sure of what to do next. He wasn’t even sure if Jean still remembered that there was someone there. He kept muttering things in french, Jeremy had a feeling that even if there hadn’t been alcohol involved and Jean would speak louder his highschool french wouldn’t be enough to understand. Mental Breakdown in Case of Loss had never been featured in any of the “sujets’’.   
When Jean reached for the bottle next to him, Jeremy took that as his cue to move again. Gently he took the bottle while crouching down on the edge of the pool next to Jean.   
“I think you had enough of that.”  
“...I don’t think so.”  
“Ask the vase in the hallway then.”  
It was quiet for a few seconds. The ‘clink’ of the bottle against the ground seemed way too loud, but Jean didn’t seem to care. Neither of them said anything for a while after that. Two cars passed in front of the house. Jeremy wondered where Rhemann really was. Jean had said earlier that the team was at practice but even a high ranked school like USC wouldn’t train at 12 pm, right? He didn’t know the first thing about athletics that didn’t stick from being Louis’ friend.   
Maybe he could go back inside and look for Rhemann’s phone number. From what he could tell the coach was responsible for Jean so he surely would want to be notified.... But that meant leaving Jean alone again.   
And if Jean had wanted to let his coach know about any of this,he would have probably called him first. But he didn’t. “I called you” , he had said. 

Jean suddenly broke the silence. “Why are you like this?” 

“...Like what?” 

“You don’t know me. Why are you here?” 

Back when Louis had predicted what Jeremy’s early decease would look like, the girl that had been kidnapped had been found a week later, in shock and with severe memory loss that made it impossible to take hold of the kidnappers. Jeremy thought about what his headlines would look like. 

Local Boy Just Disappears In The Middle Of The Night, Is Found A Week Later In Exy Coaches Backyard 

“You...needed help, didn’t you?” 

Jean’s expression darkened all of a sudden. “I don’t need help.” 

“Okay. Why am I here then?” 

“Company.” 

Didn’t seem like the motive of a serial killer. Jeremy nodded and sat down properly. He could keep someone company, he could do that. He did that all day. Keeping customers company was his job when he manned the counter at the shop.   
This is just like that, just like selling coffee. Just with more alcohol and emotions and less...coffee. 

“You know, my friend got tickets for the Trojan’s game next Saturday.”   
That’s how you sold coffee. Smalltalk. 

“I’m not going to be there.” 

“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t be playing, you only transferred...not long ago right? I don’t remember when you did. Actually I don't think I ever knew. Louis probably does. He should tell me a bit. I mean I know basically nothing about you! And yet I’m here. But then again, you are also here so I could just ask you about stuff about you, what can Louis know about you that you don’t?! I mean I- I’m rambling. I’m sorry.”   
Jeremy went quiet and looked down at his hands. He sucked at this. Jean probably was realizing this too, because he was quiet for quite some time. He started tracing invisible lines on the ground with a pale finger. Then, quietly, without looking up he said: “Rambling is good. Tell me about the shop.”   
“The shop?”  
“Your shop. You said it was a family business. Your mother is Martha.”  
“Oh. Okay...i mean ,yeah ,of course, if that...Are you sure? I mean, don’t you wanna talk about anything? I’m a great listener too ,you know, i could just-”   
“No” , Jean interrupted. “Talking about it means thinking about it and I...don’t feel like thinking anymore.” 

Jeremy glanced at the near-empty bottle of liquor between them. Yeah, Jean really didn’t seem like he wanted to do any more thinking.   
So Jeremy talked. He talked and talked about his mom’s cakes and how he and Maya had helped with decorating the cookies when they were very little. He talked about the time Joel tripped and fell right into the cake display. He talked about the creepy guy from Maya’s school that hung around the shop for some time two years ago, always when she got off her shift, until Jacob brought him a cupcake with rainbow frosting that said “SHE’S GAY” to “let him down easy”. It was by far his favourite story to tell next to the one about the night when the whole family had stayed up to help Millie bake a glorious birthday cake for her best friend.   
All of these stories were things that Jeremy himself recalled when he was having a rough time. The shop and his family always managed to make im feel better and he was glad that it seemed to be doing something for Jean too. While Jeremy talked, Jean seemed to relax ever so slightly, didn’t send contemplating looks to the alcohol anymore, stopped drawing restless patterns on the ground.   
He wasn’t entirely sure how much time they had spent like this, when he saw Jeans eyes drooping closed again and again. 

“It’s...supposedly really, really late you know? You should go to sleep.”

“Yeah...Yeah I really should.”

“Alright.” Jeremy heaved himself up. As soon as he was standing he held out his hand for Jean to grab, but all he got was what might have been a confused stare through half closed lids. 

“C’mon, you gotta get up at some point”, he suggested. 

Apparently Jean hadn’t thought about that yet because now he gave a quiet hum, a soft nod and finally let Jeremy help hoist him up. 

It wasn’t as complicated as Jeremy anticipated to get Jean upstairs into what he suppsed was the guest bedroom. They didn’t have another accident with a vase on their way, which Jeremy counted as both, a success and a clear indicator that they had spend quite some time outside talking. At least enough that Jean could sober up quite a lot.  
He still wasn’t sober enough to not fall asleep immediately after his had made contact with his pillow though. 

When Jeremy was back in his car and saw the bright flashing 5:08 AM on the display, he kind of understood that though.


	4. Chapter 4

And then everything was back to normal.   
As if nothing ever happened, Jeremy was back to his ususal routine as soon as he arrived at the shop on Monday.  
He had texted Jean Sunday afternoon, asking if he was alright, but he didn’t get an answer. He told himself that it wasn’t a big deal, that Jean didn’t owe him anything, but a little voice inside of his head protested that the guy could at least text back after Jeremy stayed up the entire night with him. Still, the week went on without a word from Jean and by Thursday, Jeremy had given up.   
Thursdays were his free days and originally, like he had planned for weeks, he was supposed to look for a job, a university, ‘something to do with his life’, as his father liked to say. But, like it had happened for weeks, he felt terrible as soon as he opened his browser to start research. Jeremy didn’t actually want anything to change.   
Sure, it would be nice to have enough money to move out, but that would simultaneously mean he would have to leave the shop behind. And he simply didn’t think he could do that.   
He loved working there, he had always been there and he felt as if leaving it behind would mean leaving a part of his life behind. The good part, the bright part, the one that, when gone, would make room for the part that consisted of equal parts crippling anxiety and severe social phobia. Those things only existed on the very spheres of his mind in the shop on most days so why would he want to change anything?  
He didn’t want that. So, like he had for weeks now, he sat down in the living room instead, his head buried in a book, mind as far away from everything as possible.   
Until Millie had burst in ,coming home from her shift, snatching the book away.   
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” ,she said, pointing at him accusingly.   
“Tell you what exactly?”   
“I just had a literal heart attack and then had to learn from Louis- I can’t believe you Jer!”  
“Millie what are you talking about?!”  
“You meet Jean Moreau and don’t tell me?!”   
“I...I’m sorry?”  
Where did this come from suddenly? It’s been over a week since Jean had come into the shop, why did Louis only tell Millie about it now?  
“You better be sorry. I will suffer an early death because neither you, nor Louis thought to warn me about your little acquaintance and I just had about 30 years taken from my life expectancy because of this.”   
So Louis hadn’t told Millie about Jean. Then how did she know?  
Martha joined them in the living room.   
“I’m sure Millie already told you, she seemed very worked up about it, but someone was there for you at the shop today” ,she said, more to the bag she had her head buried in on the search for something than to Jeremy.   
“ _Someone?!_ That was Jean Moreau, mom!”  
“Jean came to the shop?” Jeremy asked, perplexed. He had assumed that Jean didn’t want to see him again, after Saturday night. Why would he show up at the shop, but not answer his texts?  
“Yes he did. And he asked me to tell you something. If I hadn’t been so focused on, I don’t know, getting my heart back to work, I’m sure I would remember the details but he said something about his phone and not being able to text back. _Text back_ , Jeremy. You’re texting Jean Moreau.”  
“Yeah, that’s the thing, _I’m_ texting” , Jeremy mumbled. So there was a different reason why he hadn’t heard from Jean yet. That meant that he maybe, possibly, wasn’t a total failure and that maybe, possibly, he had helped Jean that night and not just made everything worse. “Did he say anything else?”  
“I wouldn’t know, I died.”  
“Millie.”  
“He said he’ll be there for the game.”  
Jeremy distinctly remembered that Jean had very decidedly told him that he wouldn’t attend his team’s game. Why had he changed his mind? Probably because his team made him come. Definitely not because he knew Jeremy was coming. _Where did that thought even come from?_  
“Hey, now that you have top secret connections that you’re not even telling your favourite sibling about, do you think there’s a chance you can get us backstage on Saturday?”  
“I’m pretty sure it’s not called backstage and I don’t have any connections, I met the dude twice.”  
“Twice?”  
He shouldn’t have said that.  
“When was the second time?”  
“None of your business.”  
“Jer!”  
“Millie, it’s enough already” Martha interrupted their discussion which was slowly increasing in volume. “Go and find out when your father will be home from work, will you?”  
“But Mom-”  
“ _Now_ , Millie.”  
His little sister pointed a warning finger at Jeremy, before stomping upstairs “This is not over yet.”  
Jeremy wanted to be glad when his mother went to change the subject after Millie left, but-   
“Any progress on project future?”  
He had talked to her about it. He’d tried to explain it and she’d tried to understand. But calling his future a project didn’t help as much as she thought it did, in fact, it only reminded him more and more about the fact that it _wasn’t_ a project, that it was real and inevitable. Softly, he shook his head. Martha nodded. That was how it usually went. As much as Jeremy loved his mother more for not pushing him he hated himself more with every time he wasn’t able to push himself. 

 

-

 

Saturday arrived, way too early in Jeremy’s opinion. When they arrived in front of the stadium situated on USC campus, he had been a walking ball of nerves for hours. He couldn’t even pinpoint what exactly got him so worked up.   
That was, he _could_ , but it just did not make sense.   
Jean. Jean was the reason. But why would he feel so nervous at the prospect of meeting this guy again, when he had only talked to him twice and still knew next to nothing about him?   
In the shower this morning Jeremy had tried to piece together the facts. Jean was, without a doubt, attractive. He had a nice voice, too. But just that and a whole lot of emotional baggage usually did not qualify to make Jeremy crush on someone. And that was the conclusion he came to in the shower.   
Jeremy knew what crushes felt like, had had hundreds throughout middle- and high school, and honestly speaking, thinking about seeing Jean made him feel exactly like thinking about seeing Rebecca, his lab partner in 9th grade, felt back then.   
Another conclusion he came to in the shower was that he couldn’t do anything about this crush. He’d just have to wait and see it through until it would be over eventually, as he did with each and every inconvenience in his life.   
He probably wouldn’t even meet Jean today, he thought to himself as Louis manoeuvred his shitty car around the stadiums parking lot, already filled with hundreds of cars and people. With this mass of fans it would be a miracle for Jean to find him - which he certainly wasn’t planning to try anyways, because he certainly wasn’t here for Jean.   
“Earth to Jeremy.” Louis waved a hand in front of Jeremy’s eyes, motioning for him to get out of the car when he had his attention.   
Millie and her best friend, Ava, were already standing outside, excitedly discussing something Jeremy couldn’t quite follow, as they had the entire drive.   
The walk to their seats was excruciating. Jeremy hated crowds on a good day, but with his nerves as wrecked as they were, he felt as if he himself had just played a full game of Exy when he finally dropped down on the hard plastic seat.   
“Who’s USC playing anyways?”, he directed at the rest of their little group, not recognizing the jerseys that started to fill the ranks around him that weren’t donning the hosting red and gold combination.   
“Have you been listening to literally anything we’ve been saying on the ride?”, Millie asked, already knowing the answer. With an exaggerated sigh she went back to explain.   
“It’s a scrimmage against Baltimore. Nothing serious, championship is over, as you know.”   
Jeremy nodded. He remembered the night of the finale last week all too well…  
“Nothing serious also because it’s Baltimore”, Louis threw in now. “Laila’s team could win them any day.”   
Millie nodded in agreement, while Ava chuckled. “Not that I would want that but it would be hilarious to see your face if USC loses this game.”   
“Don’t be ridiculous, that’s just unrealistic.”

-

USC didn’t lose. From what Jeremy could tell, they played an excellent game, and so did Baltimore. His expertise didn’t allow any further judgement than that, he was just glad that nobody attempted murder when the final signal rang.   
Looking around the ranks you would think the fans were celebrating their teams championship win, they were so happy. It reminded Jeremy why he let Louis convince him to tag along to games every once in awhile - the atmosphere after a win was so euphoric and bright that it was just not possible to be sad, whether you cared for the sport or not.   
Jeremy couldn’t help but wonder if Jean was cheering too, as his eyes wandered down to the court again where the players started to file off the court and into the changing rooms. He doubted it.   
On one hand Jean had only been part of this team for mere weeks. It sure was weird to change loyalties like that. On the other hand, Jean didn’t seem the type to get overly cheerful about a win… and in general.   
_Calm down, buzzkill._ Jeremy scolded himself, while fishing his phone out of his pocket to distract himself, ignoring his sister and Louis animatedly discussing an apparently extraordinary gameplay USC’s backliner Sara Alvarez had run in the second half.   
His phone was anything but a distraction from Jean. 

**you’re here right?**

**can you come to the corridor that leads to the dressing rooms after the game is over?**

**need to talk to you**

**come alone**

Apparently, Jeans phone had been fixed. And apparently, he needed to talk to Jeremy. He was reminded of his statement to Millie two weeks ago, when he compared his first meeting with Jean to a cheap movie cliché. As he excused himself, he internally cringed at this thought. That was not where he would let this go. Just see it through and wait for it to be over. 

Apparently Jean had other plans. 

It took Jeremy a small eternity to reach the corridor Jean was expecting him in, since he had to fight his way through masses of people going into the opposite direction for the most part of it. When he finally broke free of the crowd and was able to catch his breath and look around, he was convinced the journey had taken him eons and Jean surely thought he had left him hanging. Therefore he was mildly surprised to find the other waiting exactly where he said he would, if hard to see.   
Jean was wearing a huge dark blue hoodie, the hood pulled over his forehead, probably to avoid unwelcome encounters. Not only the hoodie gave off that impression but also the fact that he stood behind a huge indoors plant. If Jeremy hadn't been so unreasonably nervous, he would've chuckled at the scene.   
Alas, he approached Jean slowly, taking a calming breath before softly calling his name shortly before he reached him.   
Jean looked up and the way he raised his eyebrows upon seeing Jeremy made it seem like he was relieved that he came.   
It calmed Jeremy down a great deal to realize that Jean seemed about as anxious about this meeting as he himself did. Either that or it was all just wishful thinking, but Jeremy would accept it, if it meant calming himself down just a little. 

Jean didn't waste time greeting him but instead motioned for him to follow him deeper into the corridor. They ended up in what seemed like a trainer's office, currently unoccupied. Finally, Jean turned around and said: "You're here." 

Again, it reminded Jeremy of their previous meetings. Jean had him called here, after all. Why had he done that? Just as Jeremy wanted to ask precisely that, Jean opened his mouth again and murmured, while dropping his eyes to the floor: "I don't know why i told you to come."

Jeremy was pretty sure that this was not the entire truth, but he was not going to push Jean for the reason. Instead he did, what he did best around the other man. Rambling. 

"The game was good. At least I think it was...Your team won, so they did well right? I know nothing about the technique of this sport so I can't really judge. But my sister was saying that that one save by Alvarez in the second half was spectacular, and my sister usually knows her Exy techniques. She's the same sister that knows french. It may seem like she's just smarter than me in everything she does, which she probably is, but also she's in middle school, so I can't really openly admit that, you know? That would be embarrassing." He chuckled awkwardly and stopped to breathe. _He_ was embarrassing. Honestly, if Jean didn't want to tell him what he had to say, he couldn't blame him for never telling now. 

To his suprise, his little rant had done something for Jean's memory. After a few silent seconds, Jean looked up from his shoes again and straight into Jeremy's eyes. "Why are you here?" ,he asked. 

His voice was not louder than it had been before, but Jeremy was so nervous and so hyper-aware of him, that Jean could have yelled and it would have had the same effect. His heart started racing and he didn't know why, wanted it to stop. What was the dumb thing so worked up about? He did not even know the answer to Jean's question himself, it had absolutely no reason to act like Jeremy was about to bolt. As it was, his pulse made him _want_ to bolt, to run away from this ridiculous scene where he was standing in a deserted office with a man he barely knew but inexplicably cared for, scolding his own heart. Why _was_ he here?  
Jean had asked him the exact same thing when he showed up at Coach Rheman's house. Back then, he had been drunk and very out of it and Jeremy began wondering, if Jean remembered their conversations at all, if he too was having these mind-numbing déjà-vus, or if he simply just wanted the answer to his questions that he didn't get the last time around.  
Back then, Jeremy had answered truthfully. Jean had seemed like he needed help, and that's what Jeremy wanted to give him. Now, with Jean's eyes lacking the haze of booze and staring at him, stark and striking like a morning in winter, he felt like this explaination wouldn't be enough to protect him against the cold. The warmest memory he and Jean shared in their short history was Martha's. The safest way to go about this was to start at the beginning. Maybe, just maybe, he would find the answer Jean asked for along the way. 

"My mom's shop is a second home to me. Hell, when I was younger there was a phase where I was convinced it was my first home. I know you've only been there once, but maybe, if you imagine to have basically grown up there, you can kind of understand what I mean... The smell of it, the patrons, the day to day business, they're all just inherently comforting and safe and..happy. It's a happy place. That's ridiculous, it's a coffee shop. Honestly I don't know how to explain this. It's just- It's a bright place and good things happen there ,you know? It's where cupcakes are made! And- And then you came in and it was just so off-...Oh god that sounded like an insult, I'm so sorry. I don't mean- You just- Um..." 

Jeremy took a deep breath. He hadn't meant to just start rambling like this. It had seemed like the only reasonable thing to do to explain himself before, but now he just felt ridiculous. Jean probably thought he was being ridiculous. He pobably was regretting ever calling him here, ever calling him in the middle of the night, ever walking into the coffee shop and order from Jeremy. 

But when Jeremy looked up, Jean was still looking at him. his eyes were just as clear as they had been before, just as set on finding out what he wanted to know. If anything, they were asking more now, were willing to take in whatever Jeremy had to say. It encouraged him, made him take a steadying breath that he would have been embarrassed about in any other conversation. But now he found himself holding Jean's gaze and continuing. 

"You looked like you were running from something. Not physically, just in general. Like you were trying to leave something far, far behind but couldn't quite manage to, like you were nearly giving up to. Like you were just short of falling prey to it. To me, the shop is always the safe haven where I can take cover from things that are haunting me. It's where Im safest, and it's what I'm trying to make it for everyone who comes in, even when they're just passing by to get a cup of green tea to go. But there was... something different about you." 

A quiet noise from Jean interrupted him this time.   
"Are you...are you laughing at me?" 

Jean softly chuckled again, the sound rough against his lips. "There was something different about me. That sounds like it's out of a cheesy chick-flick."

As he turned his head downwards and felt his cheeks heating up at the jab, he thought that he really had heard that line hundreds of times during movie nights with Millie. 

"Well, it sure sounds dramatic, but it's true. It's why I gave you my number." 

"Because you felt like you were in a cheesy chick-flick?"

Jeremy coughed. His cheeks grew warmer. When he looked up again, the crisp winter-grey in Jeans eyes seemed to be melting too. 

"Actually I gave it to you because I have a very poorly placed hero-complex and felt the urge to help you, but if it helps you with understanding, sure, let's go with chick-flick."   
It was a quick and poor try to direct the weird tone the conversation had taken back to the explaination Jean had asked for, but the other seemed satisfied with it all the same. He nodded at Jeremy to go on. The right corner of his mouth stayed endearingly upturned. 

"Uhm. I'm not really good with people, face-to-face, actually, so I didn't really know how to help you. Also I couldn't, of course, because you had my number and I didn't have yours. Well I guess what I'm saying is that I was surprised when you called me, but also that all this is also the reason why I came over then-"

"You said that then to. That you were there because I needed help. That you wanted to help."

"Well...yeah." So he did remember their conversations. Jeremy didn't know what to make out of this, so it was his turn to wait for Jean to go on. His own rambling was going in circles after all, and he wasn't sure there was more to come out of it. 

"I...I know what you mean about yur mother's shop. It felt really cozy, made you want to stay. The smell...it smelled like honey and flowers." 

"Lilacs." ,Jeremy nearly whispered. He hadn't want to say it, i was oddly specific and irrelevant. Jean didn't seem to mind. 

"Yeah. It's also what it was like to talk to you."

It was quiet for a few seconds, like Jean was waiting for Jeremy's reaction, while Jeremy was still trying to properly process how something could feel like lilacs smell. But he guessed that he knew what it felt like. Jean's eyes were still melting, slowly, but surely. 

"That also sounds like something out of a chick-flick." 

"It's what we're going with, no?" Another tiny smile. "Anyways, I guess what I'm trying to say is that...I _was >/em> running from something. And I knew that you knew that, even though I still don't know how you knew that. And I you gave me the feeling that you wanted...that you could help me. And when you gave me the chance to try, I took it. I wasn't sure about it. I still wasn't sure about it when I texted you in the middle of the night. But I was desperate the first time and drunk the second. And now I'm slightly more sure, which is why I called you here." _

_"And that's why I'm here." ,Jeremy added. "You asked why I came. That's why. Taking chances, helping people, lilacs, honey." He chuckled nervously. "It's what I do."_

_"I barely know you." Jean said. And if it weren't for the icy clouds in his eyes turning into the light and hopefull mist of spring, Jeremy would've been set off by it. But Jeans eyes were melting, and so was Jeremy's self-consciousness. He sent Jean a sheepish smile and extended his hand._

_"Hi, I'm Jeremy Knox. I'm not good with people but I still would like to help you."_

_Jean's gaze wandered to Jermy's hand, and when he took it, his skin was as warm as Jeremy felt inside._

_"Jean Moreau. I'm not good at letting people help me but i still would like to let you try."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! First of all a loud and resounding apology to everyone who wanted this fic to be updated months ago and also to those who wanted it to keep going. I'm a chronic procrastinator. And added to that I kind of left the tfc fandom, which didn't make it easier to write. I realized that I wouldn't be able to wrote more for this than this one chapter, which is why we're now left with this shitty and unsatisfying open ending. please don't hate me too much. Secondly a just as big thank you to everyone who read this fic and has encouraged me to go on, every sngle comment was so greatly appreciated!  
> Again. I'm sorry for leaving you like this, but I still hope you like what I decided to end on at least a little bit.  
> Love, K.

**Author's Note:**

> OC credit: The Knox's are a joint product of everyone at exyspacegays.tumblr.com  
> Louis is mine and Taylor's ( isaaclajey.tumblr.com ) child


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